Poetry and Things of Such

on something more holy

Sit deep and let the world breath you in

you're just here for a little

and most will go to waste

have it be better to float

to crash with the breaking waves

to love as if you understand what you're loving

to drown with the skipping stones as they break the water

its always better to be here as you have come

naked body

chest tight

and eyes looking towards the heavans

intensely - as you will be trying to spot heavan hiding behind the clouds

you'll waste most of your coming journey

running towards from which you came

and pray you don't remember the footsteps

so something more worthy can take their place

on all anger

If you happen to look over your shoulder

I'll be standing there with my eyes covered

and my toes gripping the floor

and I'll have enough rage for a million years

it comes from my pupils like burning lasers

and so I love you so I cover them

so I cannot read your perception of me

and know what it all means

you look so different - younger

like reversed damage

like rewinded footage

and digging deep into my photographs

until everything is only black and white again

And I sit here after growing up to fast

and after being the only 20 year old in third grade

and know I still cannot outgrow this

I'm hating everything I write

erasing everything I draw

and I don't sing in the shower anymore

on the old phone videos

I don't like the sand

Ill say to you like some before

I know you know the reference

anyone does

but maybe I'll catch a niche

you'll say it's funny you know that

and I'll tell you about my starwars backpack

and the old videos on my dads phone

of me

slowly pushing a green lightsaber into a wall

it looks real!

does it look real?

it doesn't but thats okay

but you won't ask about the old phone videos

and I won't tell you about them either

so I'll just say I don't like the sand

we'll laugh

the beach is hot even at night

or its cold

depends on what time of the year I have you at the beach

I have you at the beach

its always dark

and I'll ask you to swim

I love swimming

and you do to

but we won't swim

and I know we won't swim when I ask you to

but I'll ask nonetheless

maybe it'll make you think something of me

a quality I don't appear to have

she's spontaneous because she wants to swim

at the dark sandy hot cold beach

that she has me hear at

but I like the sand

I really do

it has a thing for me

I find myself covered in it

whenever I'm by the water

even when I have a towel

the sand will stick to my face and fingers

it sticks to me like the humidity

but I won't tell you that

because then I'm a liar

because you know I don't like sand

like anakin

like my lightsaber

like the old phone videos

and like spontaneous swimming

she doesnt like the sand

anyways its too cold at our beach

the one I have you at

so we will go back to a car

that is black white or gray

nothing with much color

but I never really think about the color of cars anyways

and maybe

you'll say what now

and I'll say

I'm sorry Im covered in sand

it seems to have a thing for me

on whats left

I'm all apathy and madness

my hands are freezing to the touch

and my ribs snap a little as I inhale

lips bleeding from the cracks

and eyes pinned to the heavans

I have mastered the trudge

and saving myself from falling

when tripping over my own heels

its as though I have enough memories

for one hundered years

and I say to everyone I meet

you must walk across your tightrope

like an untrained acrobat

its who we are and what this is

hang by your toes

then bounce back up again

ontp your knees

and whilst there

say a prayer for good measure

on being weak

I felt like a star

like a blue marsh of fire

i was intense

unyielding and immortal

admired by all those below me on the earth

and you gave me gasoline

a flit

and a lighter

and some paper

the entire agenda

and entire consequence

so it kept me alive burning

melting stones into diamonds

and then the diamonds into soot

everything I was would fade

and become cold upon the loss of you

so I followed your gift

of agenda and youth

and burned the paper you had given me

I wrote the entirety with poetry

beliefs and lessons

and I loitered until the day

I would choose to swim the Atlantic

and stand alone

cold and faded by the saltwater

but on both of my feet

with my knees straight

and head turned up

I am a dead star nonetheless

and so I bit the hand that feeds me now

and I've written down new poems

while my matches rest in another room

on you must be right

you say I'm awkward

and you're right

you're the only person who says that

so now I ask

why my confidence cowers at the sight of your face

I'm wondering

if my selective patience

and selflessness for you

is not a better version of me

but submission

some sort of upside-down obedience

to someone I religiously say I am better than

to that I say

isn't my hypocrisy sufficient sacrifice

for the lies you spit in my face?

a lie I don't know you're telling

is the harshest weapon you could use

to tear me apart

you say you're a good person

and you're right

but maybe

its that you know what a good person is

just like how you know what kindness is

but don't choose it

have we confused potential for being?

but you are a good person

I need to admit you're right

because thats what I'm here to write about

you know love

you feel music

you work hard

and know what it is to care

a brilliant kid

and yet my central dogma remains

that if I put everything I am on a scale

it will weigh down your damn end every time

on no roots

I have forgotten how to turn the lights of in my house

it was once routine

you know

the lights intrinsically associated with their switches

and with a subconcious reach

my hand could swiftly accomplish my goal

but now

what once was routine now requires deliberation which drawer are the plates in again?

for the ninth time in my life

I'm asking that question

when I should be the one answering

my home is four walls

and nothing more

the farther away I get

the smaller it becomes in the distance

and now when I return

I'm stunned by the size of my room

my root is here

and now I wonder if I have the control

to unearth it

and live in the sky for a while

maybe its now that the house is empty

I feel peace when I am inside

I am left

and I've first experienced truley living within my home

like flooding

I take up space

and move through each corner

trying to fill it

with dance

with music

with spontaneity

I move vases to a place they haven't ever been

for the sake of saying

my home has changed as I have

convincing myself it makes it easier to leave

because

if the part of me bound to my house has changed

then there isnt anymore nostalgia

in my bedroom mirrors

on the answer to life

what if we are spirits

and we've existed in so many forms

but only once as an earthly being

and now we are human

but because weve existed for so long in the other places

we're confused here

like we just painted our nails

and move now so that we dont smudge them

carefully and ever adapting

maybe for the first time

we can feel emotion in our bodies

the pain heartache

and the fatigue of stress

in the neck and ribs

we've labelled these things

and decided they have an objective point in time

in which they are to exist

but this cannot be the truth

wheather we know it or not

there are things about ourselves

in the deepest parts of our bodies

not a part that hides itself

and onlookers need to do no finding

its out in the open to be seen

and everyone subconciously recognizes that part

without knowing it exists

but human knows human

and it has nothing to do with our eyes

we must remove the visual aspect of recognition

we subconciously let it define us

and be in everything we do

without knowing it exists

and if you know it exists

you are obligated then to find out what it is

what you are

and possibly

once you know and understand

you can no longer be a slave

to anger

to envy

to hartred

love begins to exude from your skin

and it will be underserved

and it will go unreciprocated

but because you love so much

and you understand - we are not what we know

manipulation is futile

because you cannot receive it

when you know its being thrown at you

you cannot feel anger

because the spirit that commited the wrong

knows not what they do

we do not know what we do

and because of that

empathy can overrule offense

on philosophy physics club

My highschool physics teacher had a philosophy club

and I sat in my chair

august of twenty-twenty-three

small and dedicated

On the board was a sentence

what is I

and the quiet man stood at the front

he read the sentence

this isn't physics

and my answer is my name

Liberty

he looked at me

what is liberty

the corners of his mouth almost curled upwards

but they didn't

I am a person

I am a student

I am a sister and daughter

I am an artist

he surveyed the classroom

mostly silent

except for a few who vocalized my previous definitions of self

he had no response other than a gaze

I is not a person

and I is not a role

and so he began teaching physics

as he was supposed to

and my mind flipped

to the numbers on the board

I never disregarded the question

but I gave up on an answer

or convinced myself I had one

and three years later

I'm back sitting small and diligent

choked on the same thing

because I'm not my roles

I'm not what I beleive

I'm not one of a species

and I'm not my deeds

good or bad

nor am I Liberty

and now I truley have no answer

all my pseudo identity dissolving

into a dark and heavy liquid

in my hands and sternum

on sharing a bed

I've made my bed

and now come lay next to me

fucking up the sheets I placed

my heart fell through my body

and now there blood on the matress

on 1:55 am in my bed

I have a sinus infection right now

and the closest thing I can compare sadness to

is all the sick sliding down the back of my throat

and into my chest

and heartache feels as if my sternum

is slowly getting sucked towards my spine

fusing its flatness to my vertebrae

and crushing what lies in between

and the things I know sadness is

driving through the midwest

with no passion for a single thing in this world

the longsleeve I got back in fall of 2024

gray

suburban billboards

and I feel abnormal

like an fbi agent

constantly watching

to make sure I don't commit some irrepreble mistake

monitering every move

as both joe and love

an internal third party

a future version of myself

critisizing the person who stands in the present

but I can't steal her feelings

her opinions

nor do I want to

I cannot ensure my feelings remain consistant

they grow and change with me now

and her later

and yet here I am

stalked by myself

letting my life be controlled by a ghost

who I worship as the most morally

socially

perfect version of myself

and the endeavor is exhausting

and it isn't why I am here

I am to live the most regretless

loving

present

peaceful

and real life I can

to do such

I must be slow

not something I'm particularly good at

and peaceful is a hard word

I want to accept sadness

anger

deprivation

loss

and confusion

I want to sit in the same room as these things

rather than going faster

not to dwell

but to appreciate everything I am capable of experiencing in this life

the good and bad I must be equally present with

or I will continue to not know myself

on a story that happened once in a way in 2023 or adjacent

heavy winter coats cover the bones in my sternum

a park bench split by railings is a good waste of time before a hockey game

I'm eating for survival and finding pleasure in distance

and theres nothing on the table but a roll and a weeks worth

its green on the come down

and I'll save a shell for a pretty friend

then trace the scar between your eyes

I'm thinking about the things I said

denim and a canvas

a hazy bicycle out of focus

It's nighttime for miles

with a kiss on my stomach

if I could be right here again

what would I do different?

on a jealously that will never go from me

theres a space on the bed

between a happy wife and husband

and I'm standing on the ceiling

while shes hot on you

you're branded

her bestfriend thinks she gave in

but the summer takes us with it

and you're 30 here in Maine

I'll find us just enough to celebrate

before religion falls upon us

and God's in our rotation

He's speaking of the afterlife

you once seemed so ambitious

but you pace the halls like you have seen it

and so the path has been left for you

but its up to you to trace it

lavender and dimmer lighting

mom calls us from the basement

are you doing fine?

am I doing fine?

on sparring

There was a shirt in the closet

its gone now because I had to clean it

and wear it again myself

but nonetheless there was

and I wouldn't touch it

it was blue and shadows and creases

it was proof

I've locked my door now

and so I stand gaurd with my hand on the doorknob

and a handgun in my bedside table

you can push a little at the door

trying to open it

I'll feel the struggle and it reminds me

that I am alive

that I'm human and I'm here

and now I can use the bones in my skin

to push back against you

a struggle, conflict

a fight that I am ready for

because there was a time I kept my hands at my sides

and my face exposed

I hadn't any vaseline on my skin

to smooth the punches thrown

but I've grown all up

and no longer subside to defense